


those rare people

by togrutamafia (vorchamafia)



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, nothing says bros quite like going on a high speed chase together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23817679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vorchamafia/pseuds/togrutamafia
Summary: “Who - who just let them get a bottle of hard liquor?"Cody takes a sip of his drink. “The Force.”Fox wheezes.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & CC-1010 | Fox
Comments: 13
Kudos: 197





	those rare people

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skellington101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skellington101/gifts).



> for skelly who was kind enough to ease my suffering and find a specific post that i had been searching for for like 3 hours beforehand. wow. never underestimate the power of asking people for help y'all

The Coruscant Guard, unlike the other divisions, doesn’t get time off. There’s never proper shore leave - not for clones, never for clones - but there’s lulls between battles, peace between fights. It’s not much; Cody’s made his peace with that as much as he can, and yet…

The Guard doesn’t have that. When they’re not filing paperwork, they’re patrolling; when they’re not patrolling, they’re being dispatched to personally guard so-and-so or do whatever else it is. They don’t get a break, and the longer Cody spends loitering in their office, the more he sees the toll on the faces of his vod. 

Fox looks the worst. He’s older than Cody - not by much, but a few weeks start to add up to clones - and he seems…

Exhausted. Overworked. It says more than Cody wants to hear when Fox doesn’t even put his helmet on as soon as the doors slide open because Fox always wears his helmet. On Kamino, Fox was always the first one with his helmet on and the last one with his helmet off. Somewhere along the way, he must’ve started wearing the bucket to avoid his vod’s stares.

Cody doesn’t stare. He puts down a cup of caf and takes one of the uncomfortable chairs in front of Fox’s desk. In the two hours he’s been here, he’s rearranged Fox’s desk twice, made three caf runs, terrified the shinies, made Stone laugh so loudly that two troopers commed in to ask what the fuss was all about, and done his best to make Fox smile.

It hasn’t worked very well, but hey, Cody’s not a quitter.

“Aren’t you bored?” Cody asks, hooking his ankle over his knee. Every time he opens his mouth, he feels the faint ache of bruising on the side of his face. Whatever the medics gave him to ease the pain of his broken arm evidently doesn’t extend to much else. “Don’t you just want to—”

“No,” Fox says loudly, cutting Cody off. He puts his datapad down with a frown. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

Cody raises a single brow. No, Cody doesn’t have better things to do - not when the 212th is stationed on Coruscant for the next week, temporarily relieved from battle - and Fox knows it. Instead of pointing that out, he says, “What, you didn’t miss me?”

“I missed having peace and quiet.”

The other brow raises. “You get any sort of peace with this lot?”

“More than I do now,” Fox mutters, narrowing his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be whipping the 212th into shape?”

“I’ve got people for that,” Cody loftily replies. 

“What about General Kenobi? His lightsaber’s liable to get lost if you’re gone for much longer.”

Cody rolls his eyes. If he thought it’d get a laugh out of Fox, he might launch into his usual spiel, but now doesn’t seem like the time. “Jedi business,” he says. “My presence isn’t necessary.”

Fox’s expression barely changes. For someone whose bucket is perpetually on, he’s got a mean poker face. Actually...

“Cards later?” Cody suggests. Fox fixes him with an impassive stare, so he adds, “You look like you need a break.”

Fox’s reply is immediate. “From you, yes,” he says, swiping a hand across the datapad.

“Already tired of this handsome face?”

“I have the same face.”

Cody snorts, hauling himself out of the chair. His hip pops, and judging by the way Fox doesn’t even look up, anyone who sits in these chairs must have something similar happen. “Drinks later?”

“I know you can’t drink right now.” And then he says, “I don’t drink,” like Cody didn’t once walk in on him chugging a bottle of expensive wine a few months back. 

“Harsh,” Cody says, pressing his good hand to his chest in mock offense. “Can’t I spend some quality time with my brother?”

“I won’t stop you from spending some quality time outside this room.”

“Sir,” Cody says, sketching a salute at the door, “yes, sir.”

\- - -

“Aren’t we a couple of sticks in the mud?”

Fox rolls his eyes. “You couldn’t drink if you wanted to,” he says, “and someone needs to get us back in one piece.”

“It could be worse,” Cody says, stirring his fluorescent, fizzy soda with the curly straw. Fox had laughed when he ordered it. “Have you ever seen a drunk Jedi?”

The response is immediate: Fox’s mouth twists in some smile-grimace as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “All the kriffing time,” Fox mutters, gaze distant. He’s seen some shit. “Have you seen them trying to control the Force while drunk?”

“Oh, yeah,” Cody says, and launches into a tale about how Kenobi and Skywalker once got so drunk they left Tano on world with half the 212th to keep her company. When they had finally made the jump to lightspeed, Skywalker realized he was on the wrong ship with his padawan nowhere in sight, and despite Kenobi’s consolation, he still burst into tears. But that was nothing compared to the way Kenobi had gone on some spiel about how a training exercise when Skywalker was a padawan resulted in him ragingly drunk and stuck with a group of space pirates for a week while Kenobi tracked him down. 

This, of course, did nothing to help Skywalker - _what if Ahsoka became a pirate? What if Ahsoka became a Force pirate,_ Cody gasps, trying to imitate Skywalker’s voice. It’s terrible, but it sets Fox off laughing again, so it’s worth it.

By the end of it, Fox is laughing so hard he’s crying and Cody isn’t far behind. 

“That’s awful,” Fox says, wiping away his tears. He’s smiling so broadly Cody can see his teeth. “Who - who just let them get a bottle of hard liquor?”

Cody takes a sip of his drink. “The Force.”

Fox wheezes. 

It’s - good to see Fox loosen up, to watch the sharp line of his shoulders ease. Fox’s always been a stickler for the rules, more so than any of the other commanders; it didn’t come as a surprise that out of everyone, he was put in charge of the Coruscant Guard, but…

Cody stirs his fizzy drink. Fox is watching the crowd again, brow already furrowing, and for a moment, he wants to ask, _Are you tired? Are you sleeping well?_

_Are you taking care of yourself?_

He can already hear Fox saying, Yes, I’m fine. No, I don’t need you poking and prodding at me. Yes, you can get me another drink. Cody’s watching Fox so intently that he sees the moment his attention shifts. He straightens in his seat, zeroing in on someone at the bar; his smile stays, but there’s something flinty in his eyes that has Cody tensing up, too. 

“Something wrong?” Cody asks, unwilling to turn around and look. That’d be a dead giveaway. “Fox?”

“Zaor,” Fox mutters. “I’ve been looking for this for weeks.”

Cody nods once. “I’ve got your back.”

“Your arm is broken.”

“It’s just one guy,” Cody says, “and we’re two clones. How hard can it be?”

Fox gives him a look of complete and utter disbelief. “Cody…” He shakes his head. “Stay here,” Fox tells him, sliding out of the booth. Cody nearly follows him, but Fox grabs his shoulder and says, “I’ve got this. Stay down.”

“Fine.”

There’s a decent crowd in the cantina. Cody surveys the room as he takes Fox’s abandoned seat, pulling his fizzy drink with him. If it comes down to a fight, he’s close enough that he should be able to help - but not close enough to the door that he can intercept Zaor if he makes a run for it. Fox has a blaster, too, concealed beneath his civvies; Cody didn’t even bring a knife.

Over the din of conversation, Cody can’t make out anything. He sees Zaor stiffen, lekku waving about as he looks around - and then shoves his fist in Fox’s face before making a run for the door. Cody curses, rushing after him; the doors slam shut in his face before hissing open, Fox nearly colliding with his back, and then they’re squeezing through and onto the street.

Zaor has some human woman on the ground and her speeder once they spot him. Fox curses, looking around. 

“He’s getting away,” Cody says, glancing at Fox. For all his experience on the field, he’s at a loss when it comes to chasing down supposed criminals. 

“I know that - kriff, speeder! Get the speeder!”

Fox hauls himself onto the speeder they arrived with, barely waiting for Cody to swing on behind him before they pull off the curve and speed into traffic. It’s awkward - Cody has a split second to think _bad idea bad idea bad idea_ \- because he can only hold onto Fox with his good arm. 

“Blaster!”

“You want me to shoot him?” Cody shouts, incredulous.

“No! It’s about to fall off!”

“ _I’m_ about to fall off!”

“Get it!” Fox slings them around a corner; Cody yelps, tightening his grip on Fox, who shouts, “Get the—”

“The blaster,” Cody yells back, grabbing the blaster hastily shoved in Fox’s belt, “I know!”

If Fox replies, it’s lost in the wind as he slams on the breaks and dives into the traffic below them. Cody swallows another yelp, clinging to Fox for dear life, and risks a downward glance.

Bad choice, Cody thinks, wrapping a hand in Fox’s shirt as they swerve between traffic. “Cut him off!”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?!”

Affronted, Fox calls, “It’s illegal—”

“He’s a criminal!” 

“I’m - kriff!” Fox makes a noise of annoyance that Cody feels more than he hears, and before Cody’s fully processed what’s going on, the speeder jumps from one line of traffic into...

Cody feels his stomach plummet as Fox pulls a hard turn to follow. “Wrong lane, Fox! Wrong! Lane!”

“I know!”

“Left - left, Fox! Left!” Zaor banks to the side, cloak flapping behind him, and Cody shouts, “We’re not going—”

“We are!”

The skyscraper’s been hollowed out, and to Cody’s rapidly growing horror, there’s a construction crew on site, oblivious. 

“Hold on!” Fox yells, bringing them straight through where a window should be. Cody hears a distant shriek, but he doesn’t look, barely keeping his eyes on Zaor. Something clatters in the distance, but that’s not—

“Truck!”

“I know!”

“That’s a—” Cody slams into Fox’s back, feels something in his broken arm go ajar, and nearly knocks their skulls together with how suddenly Fox pulls the speeder up and around, swerving through a couple beams and shooting back into traffic. “Cut him off!”

“I can’t, it’s—”

“Illegal?!” Cody sucks in a breath, winded. “That was illegal! Do it!”

“Kriff, kriff, kriff,” Fox chants, voice pitching higher, but he veers their speeder out of traffic and straight towards Zaor. Cody spots a handful of balconies, some neatly parked skycars - they must be entering the residential area. “We’re not going to make it!”

“Yes,” Cody shouts, “we are! Floor it!” They clip a skycar, traffic rushing past, and Cody nearly topples off. ”Watch it!”

“I’m trying!”

They skirt around another corner, narrowly dodging another speeder, and loop around the corner to see Zaor doing the same thing. The twi'lek's eyes widen - Cody's eyes widen - and for a split second, all he can see is them colliding—

And then Zaor's speeder swivels down and crashes into the terrace below. Cody barely registers the sound of something shattering before Fox has them following Zaor, cursing.

Fox is halfway across the terrace by the time Cody manages to ignore the throbbing pain in his arm and drag himself off the speeder. Zaor is laying in the remains of what must’ve been a potted plant, and though he scrambles to his feet when he spots Fox, he’s not much of a fighter. Cody watches Zaor throw a punch a little too far to the side and barely restrains his sigh.

It’s nothing for Fox to sidestep, raise his blaster, and clock Zaor upside the head with it. “Stay down,” he tells the twi’lek, comm already on and issuing orders before he holsters his blaster. As soon as Cody reaches them, he says, “I’ve got a few men coming to pick us up.”

Zaor whimpers, clutching his head.

Cody runs a hand across his jaw. “That was…”

Fox taps his comm off, lowering his hand. His shoulders are tense, jaw taut, but he still says, “Disappointing?”

“A little,” Cody says. 

“We can go break a few more traffic laws,” Fox says wryly. “You sounded like you were having fun.”

“My life,” Cody says slowly, “flashed before my eyes.”

“Just another day on Coruscant.”

Cody groans. “I think I’ll take my chances with the Seppies, thanks.”

“They’re not half as fun as Zaor here,” Fox says. The man in question doesn’t respond. “I called a medic, too.”

The thought of dealing with any of the 212th’s medics is an appalling thought. No doubt, they’ll give him some polite lecture about being more conscious of his injuries - and no doubt, it’ll somehow get to Kenobi, too, and that’s not someone Cody needs to hear any sass from. “Thanks,” he says, bumping his good shoulder with Fox’s. “Your people seem nicer than mine.”

Fox huffs. “They’re only nice to you because you’re not part of the Guard.”

“I’ll take my victories where I can.”

“Trust me,” Fox says, smirking now, “it won’t be much of a win once they hear you decided to come on a high speed chase.”

“It was an impulse.” 

He levels a pointed look at Cody’s sling. “Was it?”

“I couldn’t let you chase a petty criminal by yourself, vod,” Cody says, slapping Fox on the back. It’s unprofessional and dumb, but it gets a little laugh out of Fox, so it’s worth it. Zaor certainly isn’t going anywhere, judging by the way he’s holding his lekku. 

The Coruscant Guard shows up with two medics, handcuffs, and transport. Cody spends the trip back to the Guard’s main office getting frowned at by a trooper who gravely introduces himself as Jigsaw before slathering bacta across Cody’s face and arm. Fox takes a seat across from Cody, silent, and doesn’t speak until Zaor’s being escorted away. 

“You going back to the ship for the night?”

The last thing Cody wants to do is go all the way back to the Negotiator just for six hours of sleep. He could go to the Jedi temple, too, but that’s… 

“If you’re not,” Fox continues, “I’ve got a couch.”

“A couch,” Cody repeats, turning to face his brother.

Fox nods. The poor lighting does nothing to help the dark circles beneath his eyes. “It’s about your size,” he says. “Uncomfortable as hell, but it’ll work in a pinch.”

“Got a pillow?”

“Several,” Fox says. “There’s a senator who thanked me in pillows.”

Cody lets out a startled laugh. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. There was another senator who sent down a chocolate blaster for two of us,” Fox says. “The list goes on.”

“The most thanks I’ve ever gotten was a warning shot,” Cody says dryly. Fox smirks. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Great.”

Cody does not, in fact, take the couch. They crowd onto Fox’s narrow bed, shoved together like they’re back on Kamino; Cody’s neck is craned at an odd angle to keep the bacta off the pillow, Fox’s head on his good shoulder, one knee jammed into Cody’s leg. It’s such a familiar thing that he has to swallow a lump in his throat. 

“You’re getting tired, aren’t you?”

Fox goes so still that Cody has half a mind to apologize. There’s a note of wry humor in his voice, strained, as he asks, “Is it that obvious?”

He searches for a response before settling for a stilted shrug. It’s not easy with Fox on one shoulder and the lights out, but it works. “We trained together,” Cody says; it’s the closest thing to an answer he can muster. “You’d know if I was tired.”

“It’s late,” Fox mutters. 

Cody accepts the deflection for what it is. “We didn’t even get drunk.”

“Drinking isn’t all it’s cut out to be,” Fox says. “You know how many drunk senators I deal with?”

“No,” Cody says. There’s a story there, and if Fox is willing to speak, he’ll listen. “How many?”

“So kriffing many,” Fox gripes. “Skywalker accidentally forgetting Tano in another system is a joke compared to what all these politicians get up to.”

“I can imagine,” Cody says. “You hear about Kenobi and Christopshis?”

“What didn’t I hear about Christophsis?”

“The surrender.”

Fox huffs, amused. “Yeah, I heard of it. What about it?”

“Just the report?” Cody asks.

“If you haven’t noticed,” Fox replies, “I don’t have much time for anything, let alone reading reports about battles I wasn’t involved in.”

“Fox, my vod, I’ve got just the story for you,” Cody says, and tells Fox the exaggerated version of the tale that the 212th’s been passing around since their victory. It isn’t long before Fox’s breathing evens out, grip on Cody's shirt relaxing. He's sound asleep, and shortly after Cody is, too.

**Author's Note:**

> mando'a translation:
> 
> vod - brother/sister/sibling/comrade


End file.
